they say she's a floatin' hell

The curtained canopies hadn't yet started to brown with the cooling of the weather, but Modesty knew with time, these private little glades would be but a memory surrounded by tendril like fingers of the parent plant. The wind had blown small piles of leaves from the nearby springs into this shaded oasis, and the humidity offered from the warmth of the water caused fungi to sprout between the roots where leaves gathered to decay.

Fungi was almost a specialty of Modesty's, and she was so focused on checking the underside of a mushroom cap to make sure she wasn't mistaking it for one of its more toxic counterparts that she almost missed the whispered words as another joined her between the trees. A caracal ear flicked atop her head and she turned her dual tone gaze on the tiny stranger, just a little taller than Jael. At her core she was a vain creature, but she certainly hadn't been feeling beautiful lately, so she turned to look over her shoulder, certain the other woman must be talking to someone else. When there was nobody else there, a brow arched over her left eye. “Surely you don't mean me?”

“Speech.”